


Coloratura & Crescendo

by WhittyOne



Series: Serenade & Sonata [2]
Category: Only Lovers Left Alive (2013), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Blood Play, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, NSFW, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:26:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5603209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhittyOne/pseuds/WhittyOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dream shared, a memory lost and found, and it changed everything for Adam and Emmaline forever.  But where do they go from here?</p><p>This work is a continuation of the <i>Serenade & Sonata</i> series, an original fanfiction inspired by the Jim Jarmusch film <i>Only Lovers Left Alive</i>.  No copyright infringement is intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her lips were wet with salted copper, the scent of wool and wood and vinyl drifting smooth and soft on the chill of the air around her. An occasional watery thump resonated through her ears, slow, slower. Every line and ligament of her body seemed to melt, loose and lax, into the mattress beneath her; suddenly, simply keeping her eyes closed seemed to take herculean effort. She let them slide open, felt them release their tears down the curves of her cheeks, and smiled sleepily into the blue and gold staring back at her.

“Adam…” she whispered faintly.

 _Emmaline…_ His lips never moved, his voice bubbling unspoken from the center of her brain. _Hold on, my love…_

She tried to take a breath, to laugh gently and tell him she was fine. Her expression tensed, darkened when her lungs did not respond, and the mossy green of her eyes all but vanished as her pupils widened, more and more, searching for the light that was fading to a pinpoint in the distance. One final lub of life echoed through her head, and her heart fell silent, empty and still within her chest.

Above her, Adam brushed a tender kiss to her cheek, his arms tightening around her. “I’m here, Emmaline… I’m here…”

It started as a gentle tickle, little nibbles of aggravation settling into the pads of her fingers, the tips of her toes. An odd amplification of pins and needles, it spread slowly at first, then a bit quicker, nips of prickling pain scurrying along each of her limbs, racing towards the center of her chest, the hollow of her gut, and the gradually growing cacophony between her ears. It bore down upon her, harder and harder, until all three spots exploded at once, a trinity of white hot anguish.

In the silent stillness of the room, the man who held her squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as her psychic screams tore through him.

_Adam… oh, GOD, Adam, it hurts… IT HURTS…_

He placed one palm over her forehead, pressed the other just above her left breast.

_I know, my love, I know. I’m sorry… so fucking sorry… it’ll be over soon…_

Her body remained limp in his embrace, but the war of sensation raged on beneath her skin, a frigid fire burning its way through every cell of her being. A dull dagger stabbed deeper and deeper into her skull, an icy cold vise squeezed her chest tighter and tighter in its jaws, and a corkscrew of agony twisted its way haphazardly through her stomach.

_Oh, Jesus, Adam… please… PLEASE… make it stop… make it stop! It hurts it hurts it hurts SO MUCH… oh, GOD! Please, please MAKE IT STOP…_

Adam shifted on the bed, pulling her closer, his eyes watering and his nose beginning to run from the exquisite torture of her shrieks and sobs ripping through his mind.

_I’m here, Emmaline, I’m here. It won’t last long… and I’m here…_

Behind his closed lids he could see her, her lovely face drained and pale, gaunt beneath her suffering, her rosebud mouth quivering as she cried.

_I don’t understand, Adam. Please… help me, please… please… it hurts…_

He reached out to her in that dreamlike prison, taking her face in his hands, soothing his lips over the tracks of her tears.

_I know it hurts, my love, but it’s almost over. It’s just your body dying… your old life ending… so that you can be reborn into this new one… with me…_

He could feel her little hands grabbing for him, slender fingers scrabbling for purchase.

_I can’t, Adam… I can’t! Hurts… too much… can’t breathe… can’t think… oh, God, please please PLEASE! I can’t… I can’t… I CAN’T…_

He caught her wrists, guided her arms up around his neck.

_Please, Emmaline, my brave, beautiful Emmaline. Please hold on for me, love. Please come back to me. I love you… and I need you. Don’t make me walk this world without you again…_

Lost in the ether between life and death, he felt her arms tighten around him, her head falling back on her neck as she released her pain and panic in one long, keening shriek that went on and on and on.

The abrupt silence that followed was as deafening as all that came before; Adam exhaled a shuddering sigh. The last of Emma’s vitality had left her body in tiny diamond drops of sweat that beaded on her porcelain skin; he smoothed away the strands of hair that clung to the damp shimmer on her face and forehead, then softly kissed her slack lips. Reclining into the pillows, he glanced at the clock on the bedside table, then through the curtained window at the midnight moon. A moment later, a tattered ear and a pair of amber eyes emerged from beneath the bed, poking over the mattress in a hostile glare. “I’d get the fuck out of here if I were you,” Adam murmured thinly.

The portly feline hopped onto the bed with a clear air of disdain, crossing to curl around his mistress’s bare feet, laying his chin on her ankle and flattening his ears, the message in his muttered meow loud and clear… _she was mine first…_

“Suit yourself,” Adam sneered. “It’s your funeral… asshole…”

One quiet moment passed, then another, and another. Slowly, the veil of perspiration began to evaporate and a pale, perfect glow began to spread beneath Emmaline’s skin. The flat, matte hue of her hair darkened, took on its familiar glossy shine, and her plump, pouty mouth flushed a rich, rosy pink. The deep puncture wounds to her throat had closed to silvery scars almost as quickly as Adam had released her; they vanished from sight like a wisp of smoke, leaving an inviting and unbroken ivory landscape behind. And as he watched, as he wrapped his fingers around one delicate hand lying limply at her side, her dark, sooty lashes parted, and eyes as green as a storm-tossed sea found his once more.

“Adam?” Her voice, steady and sure, full of love and wonder with no trace of lingering pain or fear or uncertainty.

He smiled, squeezing her fingers in his own. “There you are… my lovely little Emmaline.”

“Adam,” her giggle was enticing velvet, “kiss me.”

The heat that always radiated from her had yet to fade; Adam basked in the sensation as she pressed her length against him, sliding his palms over the supple softness of her as she parted her lips, as he slipped his tongue between them. The metallic tang of his own blood still lingered on her palate, but as she came awake in his embrace, it was slowly replaced by something else, something new, something essential. Something smooth, sunnily citrus and musky sweet, the flavor of springtime rain and sensual summer nights. The scents of orchid and almond and plum drifted on the air around them, stronger than they had ever been before, inviting and intoxicating. And as the effects of his immortal serum seeped deeper and deeper into her being, he could hear the tiny, secret whispers of each and every cell as they revived, one by one, humming in her honeyed voice… _I’m alive… I’m alive… I’m alive._ And when their mouths parted, when her clearing eyes opened to him once more, full of passion and promise, he nuzzled tenderly at her cheek. “I hold eternity in my arms tonight…”

“Adam,” she whispered, touching her fingertips wondrously to his lips.

A flicker of orange fur tickled its way along her calf; a relieved, rusty purr filled the air. And all at once, the lax, limp body in his lap tensed into a taut live wire, the green of her irises swallowed by a dark and dangerous cloud of midnight black. “Emmaline…”

She nearly slipped his grip, sitting up with a snap and a violent gasp of hunger. Her lips were pulled back, the needle-fine points of her petite but perfect fangs shining in the moonlight. The cat lay his ears back against his head, baring his own teeth in a confused hiss, but he only shied just beyond the reach of her grasping hands. “Emmaline, no!” Adam barked, barring an arm across her chest. “Stop it… stop!” Her only response was an incoherent gibber of angry avarice as she clawed at the linens in a crazed attempt to pull herself forward, to pull the animal closer to her. “Emmaline!” he shouted directly into her ear. “Stop it, for fuck’s sake… stop!” Her voice took on an inhuman, reedy whine of desperation, and the cat hissed once more before rumbling a sustained growl deep in his throat, determined to hold his ground. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Adam snarled, grabbing the closest thing he could find - the remote control to the bedside television - and hurling it at the feline’s ample haunch. “Would you get the fuck out of here?”

His aim was true, and Nemesis bolted from the bed and the room in a flurry of amber dust. And as his plump body vanished around the corner, a bone-chilling cry of despair tore loose from Emmaline’s throat…

 _Why did you do that? Why, Adam? WHY? I’m so thirsty, I’m so thirsty, I’M SO THIRSTY! PLEASE ADAM HELP ME IT HURTS_ _IT HURTS IT HURTS ADAM PLEASE…_

Adam shifted on the bed, catching her better around the waist with one arm while the other scrabbled in an effort to snag the collar of his leather jacket, still slung across her night table. “Christ, Emmaline, love,” he gritted through his clenched jaw, “work with me, darling… come on, I’ve got you…” The air woofed out of him sharply as her elbow caught him in the stomach. “FUCKING HELL, EMMALINE…”

_FUCKING HELL, EMMALINE…_

“STOP FIGHTING ME!”

_STOP FIGHTING ME!_

The two nearly tumbled back into the bed when her struggle abruptly ceased, her hands pressed miserably against her ears, her body crumpling into a sobbing, sniveling heap among her pillows. Adam grabbed his coat and dug swiftly into the inside pocket, sighing in relief as his fingers closed around the cool metal of the sealed cylinder. “It’s all right, Emmaline,” he soothed sternly as he unscrewed the cap, “it’s going to be all right…”

The black plastic of the lid came loose in his grasp; Emmaline’s head sprang up like a shot. She crawled over him like a monkey scaling the branches of a tree, snatching the thermos from his hand and rushing it to her lips. He watched with affection that was almost paternal as she drank greedily, her palm cupped under her chin to catch the scarlet overflow that dribbled from the corners of her mouth, the wet sounds of her swallowing punctuated by soft little grunts. Small, stray splashes fell onto her grey sweatshirt like crimson teardrops; Adam tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear before it could get stuck in the streaks that slid down her neck. She never hiccupped, never paused, only drew deeper and deeper, upending the canister and letting the last trickle of blood drip onto her tongue. She ran a finger along the inside wall like a child sneaking a sample from the frosting bowl, licking and sucking every trace of the thick, dark fluid from her skin. She cleaned each spill with compulsive clumsiness, starting with the drops that had splattered over her palm, then swiping her hand across her chin like a kitten indulging in its first uncertain bath.

When every retrievable trace of the O-negative had been swallowed from the container, she turned her eyes on Adam, bathing him in their emerald and golden glow. “You brought blood.”

He offered her a small, simple smile, swiping his thumb through a ruby drop pooled at the corner of her mouth before pushing it gently between her lips for her to suck eagerly away. “I did.”

Her pretty pink tongue darted out for one last pass, her gaze glued to his. “You brought blood… for me.”

He dropped his head briefly in a singular nod. “I did.”

Her teeth were even when she caught her bottom lip between them. _You brought blood. You knew. You knew you were going to…_

Adam sniffed quietly, lifted his chin a stoic notch.

_I may fucking hate that I love you, Emmaline. But love you I do. I always have. I always will._

The silence that hung between them was exquisite agony, drawn out like a blade with an edge fine enough to slice through the fabric of time itself.

And then, Emmaline pounced.

Adam caught her with a grunt as her weight pushed him back against the mattress, her wet little lips eating greedily at his. He wasn’t certain what aroused him more – the sensation of her still-warm body grinding desperately against him, or the sound of her babbling stream of consciousness, instinctual thoughts of _want_ and _need_ and _touch_ and _taste_ and _fuck_ and _now now now_ echoing through her brain and invading his. He slid his palms up and over the landscape of her back, meaning to tangle his fingers in her hair and steal every lingering trace of blood from her palate. But she caught his forearms in a grip surprisingly strong, yanking them away and pinning them on either side of his head.

_No no no no no!_

He chuckled quietly into her mouth. “Emmaline…”

She smothered the word with a hungry thrust of her tongue, moaning incoherently as she moved to claw his shirt open…

… _let me, Adam, let me… please… God… let me…want you need you love you want you need you so much…_

... and sighing in exquisite relief when she succeeded, her hands eagerly exploring the bare skin of his torso.

_Mmmm, yes, yes. Mine… mine… mine._

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, growling pleasantly into her kiss and shrugging off the taxed cotton Oxford to give her more room to play. She danced her fingertips through the soft, fine hair between his pectorals, plucked teasingly at the dark flesh of his nipples, scraped her nails along the ridges of his ribcage until he hissed beneath the sensation. He bit down on her plump lower lip as she tickled her touch along the cup of his navel, thrust his hips up in invitation as she unbuckled his belt. He’d just begun to assist her in pushing his jeans down past his thighs when she dove, scrambling to take his straining length into her mouth, a distinctly feline rumble of anticipation bubbling up from her chest. Adam’s eyes flew wide as his jaw sagged, his body taut and eager as she drew him, deep and firm, into the snug, damp warmth of her throat. “Emmaline… fucking Hell…”

From beneath the dark, feathery spill of her hair, her giggle vibrated through him, making him groan and arch into her. His hands fisted the linens at his sides as she rose and plunged and rose again, her cheeks hollowed around his rigid shaft, her tongue undulating sweetly against each thick, throbbing vein. He rolled his body in time with her efforts, exhaling quiet snarls of barely tethered patience every time she slowed or stopped or shifted her rhythm. Each dark, dangerous sound seemed to fill her with determination as she drove him closer and closer to the edge; when he finally fisted her hair in warning, her bright eyes were dancing with impish delight, locking unapologetic and unashamed with the icy fire of his stare.

_…the warm and welcoming aroma of her bedroom was washed away, replaced by the crisp and clinical scent of surgical soap and sanitizer. The moonlit dim was replaced by bright, sterile light. And the soft, grunting sounds of their pleasure were drowned out by the canned voice echoing through an empty hallway: “Dr. DuBois, call telemetry at 40461. Dr. DuBois, call telemetry at 40461.” Her head, bent over her computer keyboard, began to rise slowly at the sound of his approaching footsteps. Silky, curling strands of dark russet that had broken free from her tidy updo tickled their way down the inviting curve of her neck. The measured, steady cadence of her pulse hitched as his gaze found hers, then began to race, rosebud lips parting on a small and soundless gasp…_

Dazed and delighted, she let him slide slowly from her mouth. “Adam…”

His voice was calm, commanding. “Emmaline…”

And then he was tugging, pulling, dragging her to him as he rose to his knees above her, their teeth and tongues colliding in a beautifully brutal battle for dominance. Her moan was musical as her arms wrapped tightly around him, her fingers like greedy little hooks over his shoulders.

 _… the muted glow of the twinkle lights spilled over the bare skin of his back, quietly caressing every line of rolling muscle and sinew as his fingers stroked delicately over the ivory. The warm attic smells of dust and leather and linen mingled deliciously with the spicy sandalwood scent of his skin as she tiptoed closer, her fingers vanishing into the gingery fire hidden in the curls that brushed the back of his neck. The soft whispers of her breath tickled his ear in time with the notes of_ Komm, Susser Tod _that filled the air as her voiced echoed gently through his head: “Only you could make it sound like a love song…”_

The purr of parting fabric brought them back to the present; Emmaline was only too eager to shrug away the shredded remains of her sweatshirt and press her flesh to his. His hands dipped down to her waist, and she let him dispatch the final fabric barrier between them before wrestling him back to the mattress, straddling his body and pinning him to the bed with her knees. He caught her neck in a grip like iron, his thumbs playing over her lips as he stared her down.

_“You will belong to me entirely…”_

The stormy green of her eyes flashed over the cerulean seas of his own.

_“Adam… I always have…”_

The air left them both in sweet, shuddering sighs as she sank down upon him, enveloping the cold, hard steel of his cock in the hot, hungry forge of her body. He bucked sharply upward as she bore down, harder and harder, until neither could tell where one ended and the other began. Emmaline stretched above him in a catlike arch, breathless and bewildered by the new and strange vitality that surged beneath her skin. Familiar and foreign, expected and yet explosive. She flattened her palms against the sculpted plane of his abdomen, gasping at the surge of sensations…

_… the scratch of a matchhead scraping against red phosphorus and ground glass… the sharp, seductive scent of sulfur… the spark of warmth growing to a flirty, flickering flame beneath her touch…_

… that bled into her skin from his. She breathed a curious little coo as she slid her touch higher and higher, watching his jaw tighten with controlled craving, feeling his fingers dig into the flesh of her thighs, his own eyes closed as each wave of pleasure from her undulating hips crashed over him. Her lips curled in a predatory grin of satisfaction as she realized the restraint he was exercising gave her license to relinquish her own, and she launched herself into their coupling with renewed vigor, grinding each swollen and sensitive spot inside her against his unyielding hardness. She mewled in depraved delight at every twinge and spark of electric thrill that burst from her core and skittered up through her belly, down through her legs. “Oh, God,” she rasped, letting her hands explore the curves and swells and valleys of her own body, her flesh pebbled beneath her fingertips, “Adam…” She could feel the heat of his stare burning its way over the landscape she explored, and she cocked a lasciviously proud eyebrow before lowering herself onto him, tangling her fingers in the silk of his curls and biting down on the stubbled skin of his throat.

“Fuck…” he growled hoarsely, “Emmaline…”

_… his nostrils flooded with the pine-richness of rosin, the crisp bouquet of maple and spruce, the earthy scent of finely strung horsehair and catgut… stray, scattered notes of A and E and C trilled on reed and brass-blown breezes… the echoes of soft mallets striking calfskin seemed to rumble directly within his chest… until unbearable anticipation drew all scent and sound into one exquisitely, achingly pure and magical chord…_

She was still bucking and writing over him when his hands captured her wrists, and he shuddered at her surprised keen of dismay as he wrenched them to the small of her back. She bared her teeth in a feral snarl as he rose up, chuckling darkly into her mouth as he crushed her chest to his. “Darling girl,” he purred, thrusting sharply up into her until her head fell back on her neck, exposing pale, creamy skin and fine, delicate ligament to the quick, needling nips of his teeth, “how I’ve missed you…” Her moan of delicious frustration vibrated beneath his lips as he suckled the spot he’d pierced earlier to drink her into himself, and she wriggled restlessly in his grip in a desperate bid to wrest back the control he’d taken from her. Tutting husky amusement into her ear, he tucked both of her slender wrists into one strong hand before sliding the other up her back and into her hair.

 _Adam…_ wanton, willful warning.

 _Emmaline…_ calm, collected challenge.

_… the whispering cry of wind whipping through trees as the sky above exploded in fat, diamond drops of rain… silver slashes of lightning tearing jagged seems across the black velvet ceiling of midnight… echoing thunder that shook the ground…_

He released her hands and her arms snaked around him, locking him in her determined embrace. He hissed between his teeth as her nails sank into his flesh, her lips sealing over his in a combustive, consuming kiss. The two tussled avariciously in one another’s arms for long, lusty moments, each as unwilling to surrender the command of their coupling as the other until, at long last, Emmaline pushed her curtain of sweat-soaked hair back from her forehead. Her eyes were soft and sleepy at the corners; every muscle of her body quivered with over-aroused fatigue. Her strong, even teeth caught her swollen lower lip in a pouty vise, and a petulant whimper bubbled from her throat.

_Adam…_

Swallowing hard against the rising tide of emotion, he squared his shoulders, his hand behind her head as he lowered her to the mattress once more.

_Emmaline…_

His fingers braided through hers, his forehead pressed her down into the pillows as he began a slow, deep roll, forcing himself against the deepest barrier within her over and over and over. The bullet-hard points of her nipples scraped sensually against his chest with every bounce of her breasts; her cheeks flushed rosy in the moonlight at the slippery-wet sounds of their bodies colliding. Tiny little mewls of agonized ecstasy puffed from her lips, punctuation for each sweet, savage thrust, and he opened his mouth to breathe them in, to swallow them down before exhaling them over her again in glorious, grumbling growls. Harder and harder, until he was certain he would sink into her completely to live inside her skin, until she was sure the cracking sounds that echoed through the room heralded the breaking of her bones. And then, as the tightly-wound coil of their climax began to unfurl, as their bodies arched taut and their eyes rolled back in their skulls…

_… brilliant shining white, cold and clear, painted here and there with shimmering, sheer prisms of green and gold, violet and blue… the clean, crisp scent of unspoiled ice… the hiss of newborn snowflakes joining their brethren in blinding, blanketing drifts… the graceful arms of spruce and cedar dancing in the winter wind… and the warmth of one large strong hand wrapped around small, slender fingers…_

“Adam… oh, God… Adam…” her cry, precious and plaintive.

“Emmaline…” his answering groan, heavy with relief, “my brave, beautiful Emmaline…” The silky-slick muscles that held him inside her fluttered, convulsed, then clenched impossibly tight around him as he began to spill inside her, his hands releasing hers to plunge into her hair, his face buried in the soft, fragrant sweetness of her neck. “I love you,” he murmured, frantic and fierce. “I love you… I love you… I love you…”

“Adam,” he could feel the cool caress of her tears as they rained from her cheeks to his, “I love you… so much. I love you…”

They held tightly to one another until the synchronized spasms of pleasure unlocked their throbbing grip, allowing them to collapse, limp and satisfied and spent, into the sweat-soaked sheets beneath them. Adam rolled onto his side, pulling Emmaline against him, pressing his lips to her forehead as she panted her fatigue into his chest. She snuggled eagerly into the space under his chin, tangling her legs through his before tilting her face up to smile serenely into his eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered with a sigh.

“My sweet Emmaline,” he tucked a lock of neon pink behind her ear, his expression full of reverent gratitude, “thank you.”

A moment of silence, broken only by one final resounding _crack!_ and Emmaline’s surprised yelp as the taxed and tired frame of her bed gave way, dropping the box spring and mattress to the carpet with a dull thud. Her eyes were wide and shocked and childishly delighted as Adam guided her lips to his once more, swallowing her giggles in kiss after deep, drowsy kiss. “Shhh,” he soothed a hand through her hair, down her shoulder as her lashes fluttered, blink after long, lingering blink, her mouth stretching in a wide, wondrous yawn.

“Sleep, my lovely little newborn. You’re going to need your rest…”


	2. Chapter 2

Awake.

That was how she felt. Not half-asleep, not drowsy. Awake. As if her eyes were opening after a mere blink, rather than nearly eighteen hours of deep, dreamless sleep. There was no need to yawn, no need to stretch, no urge to pull the sheets up over her shoulder and curl into the pillow to steal another fifteen minutes. She was awake. And she was alone.

She lay stock still against the mattress for a long moment, staring at the starless sky beyond the curtains. She frowned a bit when she realized her vision stuttered, adjusting to the dark the way it always had before.

_Before…_

She strained to focus on the noises and sounds that filled her ears, expecting anything and everything: the humming of an open fridge as a neighbor browsed for an evening snack, the gurgling of the hot tub bubbling away behind the apartment leasing office, the droning mutter of the traffic on Mopac just a few miles east. But all she could hear was all she ever had: the rhythmic murmur of the ceiling fan overhead, the whisper of the late spring breeze drifting through the leaves of the Spanish oak outside her window, the cursory bark of the beagle that lived in the unit behind hers, and the answering squeak of the door opening to allow the dog inside. She couldn’t even hear the steady in and out of her own breathing; she gasped sharply, panting briefly before realizing the absurdity of the action, then giggled to the empty room. “Well, that’s different.”

The intake of air introduced something else different as well; the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile of delight as the scents of the room filled her head, strong and distinct, merging and mingling and parting again like wisps of smoke behind her nose. Her own orchid and almond, Adam’s sandalwood and earthy spice, even the clean laundry and ammonia-litter smell of the cat. And then, faint but growing stronger, the aroma of warm copper and iron. An odd, tickling itch buzzed briefly behind her lips; she ran her tongue curiously over the newly-honed needle-fine points of her incisors. Sitting up, sniffing the air, she turned her head on her neck, her quiet sigh heavy with affection and appreciation. “Adam…”

The cylinder on the bedside table was open and waiting next to her favorite coffee mug. She scrambled up onto her knees as her throat burned white hot with sudden, strangling thirst; she fisted her trembling hands before grasping the thermos, forcing herself to pour a hefty dollop into the cup instead of upending it greedily into her open mouth. _You’re a vampire, Emmaline,_ she chided herself softly as she downed a shaky quaff, _not an animal_. The first wave of relief settled over her before her brow abruptly twisted in worried recollection.

_Nemesis…_

“Oh, shit,” she whimpered, throwing back the linens. “Nemesis?” She clicked her tongue in familiar come-hither. “Nem? Buddy? Where are you?” She emptied her mug in a swallow before refilling it, then slipped her arms into Adam’s discarded shirt, clambering past the broken bedframe to tiptoe out into the living room.

Adam stood at the corner of her kitchen counter, bare chested above open-fly jeans, tapping the end of a ballpoint against the laminate surface. He held her wireless phone in the other hand, and she could see a few lines of his writing scribbled on the back of a Chinese take-out menu. He dropped her a cursory nod, and she could hear the tinny strains of hold music bleeding from the telephone speaker. “Than-” she cut off the whispered word abruptly, pointing to the mug in her hand with a cutely cocked eyebrow.

_Thank you._

His neutral expression unchanged, he nodded again. _You’re welcome._

She would have tittered at the thrill of his unspoken voice in her head, but the guarded rumble that rose from the floor choked the noise in her chest. Curled on the cool wood an inch or two from Adam’s bare feet, Nemesis flattened his ears, every orange and blonde hair on his body standing on end. “Oh, Nem, honey,” the rumble swelled to a full growl as she dropped to her knees, her eyes stinging with tears. “I’m so, so sorry, buddy.” The cat’s pupils shrank to little more than black pinpoints, his sharp, shining teeth on display as he hissed angrily at his mistress. “Please, Nemesis,” Emmaline set her cup aside and patted her knees invitingly, “I’m sorry. I know I scared you, and I’m so, so sorry. Please, fatass, come here…”

The animal hissed again, curling into a tight, defensive ball of controlled amber outrage. Above him, Adam rolled his eyes impatiently, and the hiss became a spitting squawk as he pushed the cat across the floor towards Emmaline with an unceremonious sweep of his foot. Nemesis shot a look of chagrined betrayal over his shoulder, then turtled into himself as Emmaline scooted carefully closer. “Please, buddy, please?”

She could hear the metallic chink that heralded the end of Adam’s wait and, as the feline reluctantly allowed her to lift him into her embrace, the chipper voice of the British Airways attendant as she prattled away once more. Emmaline nuzzled into Nemesis’ neck as Adam nodded absently against the phone. “No, not at all… it’s essential we travel overnight, I’m afraid… medical necessity…”

Half of her attention still on his end of the conversation, the other half on the slowly diminishing grumble from the animal in her arms, Emmaline picked up her mug once more and crossed to the sofa, settling into the corner and scratching heartily behind the tabby’s mangled ear. “I’m sorry, Nem, so, so sorry. I’ll never, ever do it again, okay? I promise.” The cat yawned reflexively, blinking at her with marked disinterest.

“Two weeks from Friday? Yes, that’s quite satisfactory. Yes, several parcels to declare.”

“Come on, Nem,” Emmaline swallowed miserably. “Please? Forgive me?” The cat yawned once more, passed several lashes of his rough, pink tongue over the fur of one shoulder. Finally, after a momentary and melodramatic pause, he butted his head into her chin before settling into the cradle of her lap with a _whump_ of lazy satisfaction. She laughed in relief, sniffling and swiping at her nose. The rusty rattle of Nemesis’ purr drifted evenly on the air, and Emmaline could all but hear the clench of Adam’s jaw, even above the rueful groan of his voice in her head.

_So close._

Aloud, to the airline operator: “Oh, and we’ll be traveling with her fucking cat.”

Her mug was empty and her pet was asleep when Adam hung up the call and moved to join her, his hand in her hair pulling her head back so he could lower his mouth to hers. _My beauty._

She returned the kiss with slow, sweet enthusiasm, shivering as he stole the lingering flavor of her feeding from her tongue. _My beloved._ He sank down into the corner opposite her, legs asprawl, one long, graceful arm draped across the back of the sofa. Emmaline slipped her fingers into his, smiled sadly as he squeezed them. _Two weeks from Friday, huh?_

Adam nodded. “Two weeks from Friday,” he repeated aloud.

She squared her shoulders with a quivering sigh. “So. Where are we going?”

“London,” he replied evenly, mildly encouraged by the small but excited flicker in her eyes. “Two hours out, seventeen miles west of Southampton, to be exact.” He breathed a sigh just edged with nostalgia. “Little plot of heavily wooded land not far from a decent size village. Little house, electricity, running water…”

“All the comforts of home,” Emmaline mused.

“Privacy,” Adam finished firmly. “Safety. Security. A place for you to,” he paused briefly to clear his throat, “find your footing.”

“A place for me to get this thirst under control without slaughtering the neighbors in droves,” she clarified with a tight little grin as he squeezed her hand once more.

“Precisely,” he confirmed, giving the room around him a brief glance. “We can move everything out of here tomorrow; you’ll have time to sort out the things you positively can’t abide leaving behind.” He scowled as she passed her palm absently over the dozing cat’s back. “That fucking beast will need his own passport.”

At that, Nemesis blinked open his eyes and stretched himself into a contemptuous arch. With an aloof yawn, he bounded gracefully to the floor before sauntering into the bedroom on a wave of Emmaline’s laughter. “His records are all up to date, I can just swing him by the vet’s office sometime next…” Her words trailed off as Adam lifted his chin, his cool blue stare holding her steadily. “Except I can’t, can I?” She pressed her free hand against the all-too-human roiling in her stomach as he gave a small shake of his head. “Wow. This… I mean…” She groped for words a moment before giving up and sinking into the cushions. “Wow.”

Adam gave her arm a gentle tug. _Come here, my love._ She scuttled gratefully into his embrace, tucking herself beneath his chin as he buried his face in her hair. “It won’t be like this forever, Emmaline,” he reassured her. “You’ll learn to control yourself, control your thirst, and I’ll keep you safe while you do, I promise.” He soothed his palm up and down her arm as she buried her face in his neck. “And after that…”

_… the majestic, throaty song of the bells in St. Paul’s cathedral as one year ended and a new one began… the salty scent of seafoam as the waves of the Atlantic lapped her ankles beneath the full moon, salmon pink sand shifting between her toes… the balmy breeze of a Spanish evening blowing her hair off her brow as she leaned against the balustrade of Segovia’s Alcazar, counting the winking stars overhead… Adam, naked and beckoning from a nest of silk and satin in a small Arabian apartment…_

She turned her face up to his, rapt adoration spilling down her cheeks. “I love you so much.” His answer was his mouth sealing softly over hers, the curve of his body welcoming her as she shifted in his arms. She sniffled again when they parted, offering him a small, brave smile. “And… the house here…?”

Adam chuckled quietly against her forehead. “Belongs to me, my love. Whatever we choose to leave there will stay there.”

Her teeth closed briefly on her bottom lip. “But… but what about… I mean, can’t we just…?”

“Oh, Emmaline,” he hugged her closer, “we can’t stay here, my love. It’s too great a risk, it simply isn’t safe.”

Her hair was tickling his cheek before the words had even left his mouth as she nodded. “I know, I know.” A lingering pause, and then she laughed a little. “My mother is going to be thrilled.”

“She is, is she?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emmaline grinned. “Her daughter charging off into an adventurous new life abroad with an exciting, sexy man, _finally_ chasing the chance to be exceptional? She might at long last see a little of herself in me.” She exhaled a watery sigh as he stroked his fingers through her hair. “I’ll have to quit my job.”

Adam snorted affectionately. “I have the means to take care of you, love. I never would have –,”

“Oh, Adam, I know,” she squeezed her arms around his waist. “I’m not worried about that. It’s just… I mean… I have to actually _do_ it. I have to call HR; they need to know I’m not coming back. I should send out a few emails; Marina, Dr. G, Amy –,” her head snapped up abruptly, “oh, God, Amy!”

Adam grit his teeth as her anguish

_She’s going to hate me, hate me, hate me so much. She’s going to be so angry so sad so betrayed we’ve been friends for so long…_

echoed between his ears, and he took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You can call her, Emmaline, if you feel a letter won’t do…”

“A letter won’t do, Adam,” she shook her head, a tiny whine creeping into her voice, “a call won’t do either! We’ve been friends forever! We came up through school together… God, I never would have passed statistics without her!”

“Emmaline,” Adam’s tone was soft but stern, “it can’t be helped, love. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Emmaline sniffed dejectedly, “I’m sorry, too. All this time, everything we’ve been through, and it all ends with a crappy phone call or a Dear Amy letter.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “There’s no worse way to leave her.”

“Actually, my darling,” Adam brushed a tender kiss to her forehead.

_... the metallic scent of iron heavy and cloying in the air, the sickly slowing rhythm of a weakening pulse, the pretty blonde’s head cocked at an unnatural angle with twin pinpricks weeping scarlet teardrops just below her chin, her empty, glassy eyes staring from above dusky blue lips twisted in a grimace of pain and panic…_

“There is.”

Emmaline closed her lids against the fading vision, burrowing into his chest. “I guess you’re right.”

The two lay entwined on the sofa in the growing dark, the golden light of the overhead bulb seeming to burn brighter and warmer as night settled sleepily outside. Emmaline’s hand drifted down Adam’s body; from a gentle caress at his throat, to curious fingers plucking absently at the fine curls that dusted his chest, to playful fingertips teasing a path down the vee of his open zipper and back up again. His own hand was wrapped lightly around the back of her neck, hidden beneath her hair, and as the muscle below his waist began to twitch in absent interest, he let his touch travel along the collar of his shirt she wore, pulling it open just enough to expose the pale slope of one arm. _Didn’t bother with the buttons, I see._

She exhaled a tiny laugh through her nose. _Sure didn’t._

Adam hummed in quiet appreciation, his other hand rising to her cheek, his thumb playing over her parted lips. _My beautiful Emmaline._

Her eyes found his, shining jade beneath the sooty feathers of her lashes. _Adam… touch me._

He slid his palm down to the graceful slope at the base of her throat, a small smile curling his lips as she moved above him to straddle his lap. She caught the lapels of the Oxford, meaning to shrug it off, until the near imperceptible shake of his head gave her pause.

_Slow, love. Let me show you… let me teach you._

She nodded, a tiny tremble vibrating up through her belly as he shifted beneath her, sitting up until they were eye to eye, the tip of his nose just brushing hers.

_Close your eyes._

She did as he bade, breathing in the scent of his hair and skin as he tenderly nuzzled her cheek. She could taste the cool breeze of his desire drifting from his parted lips as he teased them over hers, shivered at the ghosting of his hands as they circled her shoulders, slid languidly down her back.

_Feel._

Another deep breath, in, out. The barely there pressure of his fingers on her body, the silky scratch of cotton against her flesh. Then, slowly… more. Miniscule spots of silvery light winking on at dozens of points beneath her skin, white hot crackles of electricity connecting them one to the next to the next. Each of her follicles contracted in response, lifting every delicate strand of hair to stand at full attention, and she gasped softly at the rushing hitch of her strange new circulation as it surged in her veins. “Adam…”

His velvety chuckle of approval rumbled through her head. _Shhh, my love. We’re only just getting started…_

She kept her eyes closed, lost in the new intensity of familiar sensations as he teased the tip of his tongue into her mouth, stealing the barest sip of her excitement before gathering the yoke of his button-down in his fists. He pulled it down with measured care, hissing mutely when the cradle of her body rocked against the measured engorgement in his groin as she slipped her arms free. He closed his own eyes briefly, concentrating on the soundless sighs that drifted through her brain as her breasts swelled in search of contact, the breathy moans she only imagined at each needle-fine prickle of her nipples hardening to pebbled peaks. Catching her wrists in a loose but steady grip, he guided her hands to them before covering her fingers with his own, molding and shaping the supple curves to their palms. He groaned at the heady rush of their mingling perceptions – her slowly awakening and aching arousal, his own predatory and possessive hunger – when her lids parted once more, her eyes clear and captivated.

“Adam…”

_Emmaline…_

He gave her his mouth at last as she arched into their combined caress, nudged the pads of her thumbs over the swollen and sensitive buds, bit down gently on her tongue. Her craven little cry filled the air and the space inside his head; his hands left hers to their play, slipping down to wrap her legs around his waist as he rose with her body in his arms. She continued to squeeze her breasts and tease the stiff points of her nipples until he’d carried her back into the bedroom and lay her asprawl over the collapsed mattress. Then, pushing her knees apart, he knelt between them, his gaze locking with hers.

_Feel._

She offered a shaky little nod as his hands came to rest on the soft, secret flesh between her thighs, his fingers tickling towards the valley above. She hiccupped air into her lungs, hitching towards his contact that crept slowly, steadily, higher and higher. Adam could feel the clench of her sex vibrating through his own belly, the sensation burning a pulsating trail down below his navel. The flood of fluid surging from within her mirrored the blood that rushed to fill his cock; he closed his eyes and set his jaw in patient determination.

Beneath him, Emmaline lay adrift, surrendering eagerly to the toss of the fresh and forceful tide rolling within her. Each shift of Adam’s skin against hers sent more and more colorful lines of current spiraling through synapse and sinew, muscle and marrow. The gentle brush of each fingertip sparked arctic blue at the surface, flowed into deep indigo; the steady pressure of his palms a blush of rouge that surged into a warm and wonderful wine-hued wave. The brace of his knees holding her open throbbed violet, the tender kiss of his lips just above the line of curls that dusted her pelvis a blazing Tuscan sun. And when at last he spread her wide, dipped his tongue into the honeyed well of her core for a long, lingering taste, the entire prismous spectrum exploded behind her eyes. Her hands flattened against her chest, fingers splayed, and she dragged them down the ridges of her ribcage. She paused to press against the ache radiating through her abdomen before fisting his hair, her short nails scraping carefully over his scalp.

_Adam… Adam…_ the back of her skull thrust deep into the pillow as she lifted the curve of her body in offering. _Please… oh, God, please…_

Again his touch became her tutor as he reached up, guided her fingers to tug and twist at the slippery, swollen bud at the apex of her sex. All at once, the sweet, seductive sounds that had been lilting between her ears – the peculiar, whispering whoosh of her vampire pulse, Adam’s low, growling grunts, and her own precious, penurious mewls – seemed to rise in both volume and pitch. Cool, crisp treble, rich, hearty bass, both peaking together as she rubbed the tender little bud in a languid, luxurious rhythm. The groping of his lips, the flickers of his tongue found and matched her tempo with ease, and she tumbled headlong into a smooth, sweaty symphony, sometimes the conductor, sometimes the concerto.

Her body was humming on the crest of crescendo when Adam, licking his lips in shrewd satisfaction, crawled slowly, effortlessly up above her. Kicking his jeans to a heap on the floor, he slid his arms underneath her, hooking his hands up over her shoulders, pulling her into the forceful, fluid roll of his hips. Her eyes widened in shocked delight as he filled her, and suddenly, he gasped in disbelief as the hallmark chill of their kind fled their flesh, leaving in its wake a bright, burning heat of chemical connection.

_Emmaline…_ breathless, bewildered. _Oh, fucking Christ… Emmaline…_

A tiny moan of overwrought emotion spilled from her lips. _Oh, Adam… I feel it… I FEEL it…_

His air left him in a strangled sob of grateful frustration as he pressed against her, desperate to make the moment last, yet half-mad with need to feel her flying out over the edge of the abyss, clamping down around him to take him with her. Her hands left their sport between her legs to trace over his parted lips; he nipped and sucked at the lingering flavor of her arousal on her skin. With a sweet, savage snarl, she dragged his mouth down to hers; they ate at one another like starving animals, crushed in the viselike jaws of their shared climax that sparked and throbbed on and on and on.

When the last of the tremors had calmed and the world once again lay level beneath their bodies, Adam rolled onto his back to stare awestruck at the ceiling, his fangs gleaming in the moonlight above his slack jaw. Emmaline snickered impishly, running the tip of her tongue over their strong, sharp curves as she reached for the cylinder still sitting at the bedside. She poured a small stream of the remaining serum into his open, waiting mouth, allowing him a swallow or two before sealing her lips over his, pilfering the flavor from his palate with a honeyed hum of contentment. He tangled his fingers through her hair as she settled into the spot under his arm, snuggling her cheek against his chest. “Thank you, my love.”

“Mmm,” she purred, trailing her fingers over his dark, still-hard nipples, “thank you.”

Adam allowed himself a snark-filled smirk. “Was better that time, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Emmaline admitted through a laugh before pouting her bottom lip in childlike disappointment.

“Now what’s all that about?” Adam demanded gently, giving the plump, pink flesh a gentle tug.

“No, no, Adam, it _was_ better, it was, oh my _God_ ,” she insisted, burrowing into his side. “It’s just…”

He cocked his head on his neck so he could look down into her clouded mossy gaze. “Just… what?”

“I mean,” she shrugged in chagrin, “it _was_ better… but it’s the _only_ thing better. And I… well, I just thought…”

Adam furrowed his brow. “Just thought what?” he prodded.

Emmaline offered a petulant scowl. “Oh, come on, Adam, you know. You can see in the dark like it’s always high noon. You can hear a fly buzz from a mile away. You can smell every scent that’s ever passed through a room and you can tell the life story of whatever you touch.” She huffed a dejected little sigh. “I thought that would be me, too. But here I am, still squinting at the clock and I can’t hear the refrigerator running and the only thing I can feel in this bed besides the wet spot is that one stupid spring that always pokes me in the hip.” Adam laughed richly, catching the corner of her jaw in his palm and nudging her mouth to his. “What?” she muttered against his lips. “I was kind of excited for all that…”

“Well, don’t despair, my lovely little newborn,” he nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers. “That will be you, and soon.”

She tilted her head back, her eyes sparkling yet skeptical. “It will?”

“Yes, darling,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead before droning on in ominous authority, “it will. Very soon you will see all the secrets in the shadows, hear every whisper and bellow both natural and not. You’ll track like a bloodhound and run like the wind, and you’ll learn the world around you in a way you never thought you could.”

“Really?” she wriggled against him in anticipation as he nodded. “But… then why…?”

_Oh, Emmaline_ , he sighed, invading her head without saying a word, tucking a lock of neon pink behind her ear, _because. It comes on slow, steady, like the sun rising on the horizon. It winks into life a little at a time. Anything more, anything faster…_

**_… a crazed and crowded city street, full of honking horns and booming, blasting music… shouts from sidewalk vendors and impatient pedestrians… the jarring drone of reedy sirens… belching clouds of acrid exhaust… scents of oil and gas and smoke and asphalt and sweat… burning heat from the blazing sun pouring down through air bereft of breeze…_ **

_… would drive you utterly mad._

She shuddered in sudden understanding, swallowing thickly as the invading sensations of the shared vision faded into the cool quiet of the bedroom. _Makes sense._

They lay in silence, entangled in the dark. The wondrous warmth their coupling created had faded away, leaving their skin soft and smooth but cold as marble, and yet Adam knew, somehow, it was not gone for good. His fingertips pianoed down the curve of her arm, making her shiver and smile into his embrace. He cast his mind adrift, and as he did, hers filled with images plucked from his past.

_…trees, green and graciously majestic as far as the eye can see. The structure solid, royal red brick, the slate grey roof faded from rain and sun alike. The door of dark, rich oak, decorated with a stout and simple iron knocker, the path leading to it overgrown with heathery grass. Brown shuttered windows framed with hearty climbing ivy, lined with perfectly unkempt hedges. Four simple rooms in uneven squares. The dining room not much bigger than a closet, a Cherrywood table dressed with two chairs. The living room boasting only a resplendently broken-down sofa of overstuffed leather and a small stone hearth with a modest mantle. The kitchen holds oven and stovetop for appearances and a squat steel icebox for essentials, the only other detail of note the windowed wall gazing out on the wilderness behind the house. The tub in the bathroom just large enough for two, the grand old feather bed empty and inviting. And the land around teeming with life, rabbit and deer, fox and quail, even a stray small game cat here and there…_

Her own not-so-small feline hopped onto the mattress, pulling her back to the present. She watched in wry amusement as he swiped a paw over his face before curling at her feet, the tip of his tail keeping time in sharp, steady flickers. She turned her face up to Adam’s, smiled gently at his stoic frown.

_Two more weeks?_

He nodded firmly. _Two more weeks._

She bit her lip shyly. _I can’t wait._

Adam stroked a fingertip over the arch of her brow, down the tender curve of her cheek. _Neither can I._

Rising up on her elbow, she draped herself over his chest, slid her fingers up into his hair. _I love you, Adam._

He was smiling when her lips found his, his own hands tugging at her colorful locks.

_I love you, my beautiful Emmaline. Welcome to my world._


	3. Chapter 3

“Peek-a-boo, I see you…”

Emmaline curled around the pillow with a giggle, biting down on her thumbnail through her smile. The moon outside Adam’s bedroom window spilled silver-white light over the landscape – the barren backyard, the gnarled scrub that skirted the tree line, the still, outstretched branches of oak and cedar and cypress and elm. The small, shining eyes that had captured her attention were framed by a mask of thick, dark fur above a wet, black button nose that twitched curiously as it poked out from the sanctuary of a bony grey hollowed-out log. She could hear the click of long, sturdy claws scratching over bark as the animal found its grip, the scrape of its girth against wood as it pulled itself free from the trunk. She watched in affectionate amusement as the raccoon stretched, shook out her coat, then glanced furtively behind her before waddling deeper into the woods. “Good hunting, little lady,” she hummed softly, feeling the now-familiar prickle of her own hunger settling into her throat. Throwing back the sheets, she dropped her feet to the floor.

 _How can you know it’s female?_ Emmaline shrugged to herself as she tied the sash of her robe in place. _Must be something in the scent._ She pondered the phenomenon briefly as she ambled down the stairs. _Not that you’re intimately familiar with what a male Procyon lotor smells like… wait… Procyon lotor? Where the fuck did_ that _come from?_ “Bionic memory,” she mused aloud as she reached into the refrigerator, “probably shouldn’t come as a surprise.” She twisted the top off a cylinder and filled a juice glass, opening the back door and stepping out into the cool evening air. She smoothed the floral silk underneath her as she sank down onto the back step, stretching out her legs and breathing in the night before taking a measured sip.

Adam had been up and dressed when she awoke in his bed just before midnight, his fingers playing gently through her hair. “There’s a girl,” he murmured, turning to pour a shot’s worth of blood from his flask into his cordial glass, sliding it her direction.

She shook her head with a sweet smile. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Precisely why you should have a small sip now,” he admonished, shifting on the bed and tugging at her hand. “Come on, love, up with you.”

Emmaline rose to sitting with a playful roll of her eyes, allowing him to put the glass in her hand and raising it agreeably as he did the flask. They both sipped together, closing their eyes in like expressions of ecstasy; she clambered to her knees to sneak a line of nibbling kisses to his neck as he screwed the top of the container back in place. “Breakfast together,” she purred into his ear, tracing a finger along the v-neck of his scrub top, “and now you’re going out again.”

Adam nodded, nuzzling at her temple. “One last supply run, my love. Thanks to your dear Dr. Gabriel, we’ll have well enough to settle in nicely while I reestablish connections in London.”

“Dr. G’s a good man,” Emmaline sighed, tilting her head back to look into his eyes. “Can you…” she stumbled a bit, groping for words. “I mean… is there something you can do to make sure he knows that?”

Adam scoffed quietly through his nostrils, pulling the fat manila envelope from his pocket. “I’ve paid him handsomely, my darling, his yield one hundred percent. Are you suggesting I slip a hefty tip in here as well?”

Emmaline growled softly and nipped at his bottom lip. _You know I don’t mean money, Adam._

He bared his teeth and nipped right back. _I could have guessed as much, Emmaline, but I’m not exactly sure what else there is I can do. Buy the man a gold watch?_ He pursed his lips at her furrowed brow before winding his arms around her, tucking her back beneath his chin. _He’s been well compensated for what he’s given, and the risks he’s taken. And, after tonight, he won’t be taking those risks anymore._

“I know,” Emmaline grumbled. “I just… I know Dr. G. I know there’s at least some part of him that feels… guilty… about all this. Even though no one’s suffered. I just…” She snuggled sullenly into his chest. “I just wish there was some way for him to know that everything he did wasn’t just to pay for his new car or his new condo or anything else he spends his money on.” She stroked a reverent palm over Adam’s heart. “He saved a life… two lives, really.” She leaned back and looked up into his blue eyes once more. “I just wish he could know that.”

“I wish it could be helped, my love,” Adam soothed a hand over her bare back. “I’ll do my very best to let him know he has my utmost gratitude.” _I’d do more, if I could…_

Emmaline nodded heavily, drawing his mouth down to hers for a lingering kiss. “So,” she cleared her throat when they parted, businesslike and brisk. “You said ‘reestablish’,” she tasted the word. “This place we’re going,” she cast her mind to the vision he’d given her, red brick and green ivy cloaked by dense woodland, “it’s kind of a safehouse for you, isn’t it?”

“Safehouse,” Adam sniffed a small laugh, “as good a word as any, I guess _._ ”

“How many times have you been there over the years, do you think?”

 _Over the years…_ His eyes clouded before he closed them in weary memory. Stumbling through the door that wet September morning, fleeing the sun and the Parliamentarians alike. Warming by the fire after what had been a lovely Greek holiday ended in violence. Weeks spent in solitude after that business in France. _A few._

Emmaline shivered at the melancholy in his tone, mildly disturbed by the curtain he drew around those memories, hiding them from her mind. “But… you have always been safe there, right?” she probed with gentle curiosity. “No one… I mean nobody ever…?”

Adam’s head filled with her nightmare imaginings: approaching mobs of broad-shouldered men bearing mallets and sharpened stakes, women brandishing crosses on chains and shaking garlands of garlic, beating down the heavy oak door and smashing the few fragile windows to drag their bodies, kicking and screaming into the blazing light of the high noon sun. He clenched his jaw against a smile, bit back a mouthful of laughter. “No, my love, no one has ever approached uninvited,” he stroked a reassuring palm over her hair, “I can’t even remember a stray motorist stopping to ask direction. The house is mine, the land is mine.” He tucked one wild lock behind her ear. “We’ll be even safer there than we are here.”

Emmaline inhaled deeply; Adam quirked a small grin when the expected exhale never came. “I trust you,” she said at last, soft, simple. Winding an arm around his neck, she pulled him close, tasting his mouth with gentle flickers of her tongue as he lowered her back to the bed, his hands sliding down her body in a tender caress. It was only with mighty effort that she let him go, her grey-green eyes shining in the dark.

_Go. Be safe, and come home to me quickly._

The rusty squall of weathered hinges broke the silence of the night but came as no surprise; she’d easily heard the lazy patter of padded footsteps even before they’d descended the stairs. “Hey there, Fatass, how’s it going?” She looked down with a smile, taking another sip from her glass as the cat sauntered over, lowering his haunches to the porch beside her and curling his tail around his paws. He closed his eyes in regal appreciation as she scritched lovingly beneath his chin, opened them in indignation when she stopped. “Kinda nice here, huh, buddy?” Emmaline sighed as the cool evening breeze blew her hair back from her face. Nemesis’ reply was a brief flicker of his mangled ear, a single whipcrack of his sleek tail. “You’re going to absolutely love where we’re headed next though, I promise, so don’t you worry about that.”

A disdainful blink of his amber gaze reassured her that he was not, in fact, worried at all.

Downing the last of the serum in her glass, Emmaline leaned back on her elbows, closing her eyes and letting the flood of her newly awakened senses wash over her. She could smell the musk of the raccoon’s pelt mingling with the earthy dry rot of the log she’d made her home, the dust and dander shed from a horned owl’s feathers as he stretched his neck and took flight, and the faint but undeniable acrid bite of oil and exhaust that clung to the interstate miles away. Laying her palms on the sun-bleached wood beneath her, she could hear the cheerful whistle of the migrant who had stripped the bark and shaped the plank, feel the heat beating down on his back as he hammered the handsome yellow grain into place. She could hear the groan of his labor-worn joints as he sank down upon it, taste the hop-heavy flavor of the beer he’d chugged while ignoring the call of the foreman… _“Vamanos, pendejo…”_

A small but distinct squeak jerked her abruptly back to the present and she bolted upright, snatching her knees to her chest and narrowing her eyes at the small ball of brown fur that sat curled on the ground at the bottom of the steps, watching her with cautious curiosity. “Oh, I don’t think so, you vicious little vermin! Fuck off!” She gave the tabby at her side a nudge with her forearm. “Nemesis! Look! Midnight snack!”

Nemesis, in return, twitched an ear in irritation before leveling his gaze on the rodent, his whiskers vibrating briefly before his mouth stretched in an impressive yawn of indifference. “Are you kidding me?” she blanched as he rose, stretched, then turned his back on mistress and mouse alike, hopping the threshold and disappearing into the darkness of the kitchen. “You’re not even going to chase it? You know, Adam is right about you,” Emmaline called angrily at his departing back, “you _are_ a useless asshole!” Grabbing her glass, she bounced to her tiptoes and scuttled towards the door herself, flipping a wrist at her tiny observer. “And _you_! I’m serious, _fuck off_! Just because we’re moving out does not mean you’re moving in so _scat_...”

In a silent steel elevator miles away, Adam’s lips curled in a small, secret smile beneath the crisp particulate paper of the surgical mask tied behind his head. The car came to a shuddering stop on the fifth floor and he stepped through the open doors, white lab coat billowing quietly behind him. The hallway was empty, the occasional disembodied voice drifting through this open door or that one, the glare of the overhead fluorescents rebounding off the shine of the mushroom-colored tile. Everything seemed the same as it had ever been, and yet, it wasn’t; it took him a moment to realize that Emmaline’s often faint but always seductive scents of orchid and almond, for the first time since his first visit, were gone. He spared the empty chairs at the nurse’s station a brief flash of furrowed brow, then leaned heavily on the buzzer beside the blood bank door.

Vicente Gabriel was standing behind his desk, his hands sunk deep in his pockets when Adam glided into his office, a thin, nervous smile twitching the corners of his mouth. His warm, caramel complexion greyed considerably as their stares collided. “Doctor,” he greeted, clearing his throat to keep the tremor out of his voice, “you look… well.”

Adam’s responding smirk, hidden behind the mask, read easily in his eyes. “You don’t, Dr. Gabriel,” he sniffed. “A bit under the weather?”

Vicente shifted his weight from one foot to the other; Adam could hear the rustling jangle as he fingered the loose change in his pockets. “No, sir, I’m… fine.” He dropped his gaze to the cooler loosely grasped in Adam’s fist. “This will be our… final exchange… as I understand it?” Adam nodded wordlessly, and Vicente stumbled just a bit over the wheeled leg of his rolling desk chair as he moved to key the access code into the lock of the freezer in the corner. “Four will be satisfactory, I assume,” he murmured, leaning into the chiller to collect the bags of O-negative he’d separated from the rest.

“Four is ample,” Adam confirmed, sliding the cooler open and allowing the doctor to tuck his purchase inside, noting how Gabriel’s eyes lingered with near morbid fascination on his nitrile-covered fingers. He remained stock still until the man retreated a step before snapping the lid back in place. “Thank you, Doctor.”

The two stood unmoving in heavy silence, until Vicente cleared his throat, his fingers slipping back into his pocket to briefly rattle its contents once more. “So. Now what?”

Adam’s carefully constructed expression held fast as he, too, slid a gloved hand into the flap of his lab coat. “Now… this.” He watched in muted amusement as the physician held his breath, letting it out in a shuddering _whoosh_ when the worn, weighty envelope hit the desktop. “Our agreed upon sum.”

Vicente nudged the unsealed tab aside, ran the edges of the bills between his thumb and forefinger. His jaw sagged a bit as he stole a glance at Adam’s face. “And then some, it seems…”

“Our arrangement has been… more fruitful than I’d initially anticipated. It led me to some… unexpected and encouraging findings.” He cut his eyes to the parcel between them, extending an open palm. “It’s fair.” He lifted his chin with a regal sniff as Vicente slowly, robotically, clasped his hand and pumped it once before dropping it abruptly. Adam smiled a little at the sight of goosebumps flocking over the skin of the doctor’s wrist, disappearing under the crisp, white cuff of his shirt. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Dr. Gabriel. I wish you all the best.” He turned on his heel and, without another word, sailed swiftly out of the office, closing the door on the bewildered man behind him.

He could hear the voices before he reached the blood bank exit, soft, feminine chatter echoing through the hallway outside. He was reaching for the handle to pull the opaque glass panel open when the sound of her name rooted him to his spot.

“So Emmaline’s really not coming back?” Marina’s voice was thick with a concerned yet gossipy tone as she set the stack of charts she’d been carrying on the high counter of the nurse’s station, her eyes glued to the petite blonde’s slumped shoulders as she plopped down in a chair at a computer terminal.

“Emmaline’s really not coming back,” Amy confirmed. “They’re renting a place outside Olympia, Washington, wherever the fuck that is.”

“Washington?” Marina wrinkled her nose. “ _¿Qué es el infierno en_ Washington??”

“Some fat opportunity in the indie rock scene, I guess,” Amy groused through a shrug.

“But wait,” Marina rounded the corner, dropping into a chair of her own and leaning forward on her knees, jerking Amy’s chair around to face her, “I’m confused. I thought they broke up, that that’s why she went MIA in the first place.”

“They did,” the leather creaked as the younger nurse reclined, her hands thrown up in a gesture of go-figure. “I guess they got in some big holy hell fight after he got the offer and he took off without her, only to come back – what? A week later? Made some huge romantic gesture, told her he didn’t want to live without her, make-up sex, make-up sex, and boom! They’re off in rain country, starting a whole new life.”

 _“Pinche gringo culero_ ,” Marina shook her head. “What was _niñita_ thinking?”

“Probably,” Amy plucked her cell phone from her pocket, tapped her finger over the screen, “that it was worth some cloudy skies to wake up every morning next to that.”

“ _Dios mio…_ ”

Listening to the Latina nurse’s throaty exhale, Adam clenched his jaw, remembering that moment in Emmaline’s apartment when, caught in the haze between sleeping and waking, a quiet click tickled between his ears. He’d shifted against the mattress with a grumble, pulling the sheet up over his bare chest. “Emmaline? What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Syrupy sweet. He should have known.

“So,” Marina handed Amy back her phone, her olive skin pinched around her almond eyes. “What’s she going to do now? Is she working?”

Amy sighed heavily. “She said something about submitting her CV to a few agencies to hook her up with travel assignments; I guess they expect this new gig of his to take him all over the place.”

“Well, that’s something at least,” Marina sat back in her own chair, tossing her thick black hair away from her face. “Excitement… romance…”

“I guess,” Amy scoffed sullenly, toeing a crack in the tile floor with the tip of her running shoe.

Marina nudged the young woman’s knee with her knuckles. “What’s the matter, _puta_? You jealous?”

“Of course I’m jealous, Mare,” the chair squealed sharply as Amy spun back to the desk, leaning heavily on her crossed arms. “I thought we were friends! I shared everything with her, Marina, _everything_. For years! Then she takes up with this guy, and little by little, she starts to vanish. Then, one day, she’s just fucking _gone_! Won’t come to work, won’t answer the phone, won’t even come to her fucking front door!” She whipped her head to the side to scowl angrily at the older nurse. “Not a word, Mare, for almost two weeks! Then this bizarre call out of nowhere, and guess what? She’s quit her job, she’s broken her lease, she’s taken the cat and she’s followed this guy two thousand miles away! Now I’m sure they’re having a great time, rocking out to Seattle’s music and drinking coffee and balling the shit out of one another, but the fact remains: she totally ditched me without a second thought, gave me some half-assed explanation on a fifteen-minute phone call from six states away, and she can’t even tell me why it all had to go down the way it did or when we might see each other again. Now, you tell me,” she narrowed her icy blue eyes, “can you think of a shittier goodbye?”

Marina gave the young blonde a moment to catch her breath before reaching over to tuck a stray strand of her flaxen hair behind her ear. “No, _corazoncita_ , I can’t. But I can tell you this,” she caught Amy’s chin in a gentle grip, “Emmaline’s a smart girl. _Chiquita’s_ been looking out for herself a long time, she wouldn’t make such important decisions so quickly if she wasn’t _absolutely sure_ they were the right ones. And you yourself kept telling the rest of us, ‘Let her go, she’s in love, she’s happy.’ She went to chase her happiness, _m’ija_. She could have left a better way, sure, but you’ve got to forgive her for that, Amy. Otherwise,” she clicked her tongue in soft sympathy, “ _no hay nada que volver a.”_

“I’m trying, Mare,” Amy pouted as Marina wrapped her arm around her shoulders and squeezed her in a hug. “I’m trying.”

“Well, that letter sounds like a good start…”

“Oh, shit, yeah, I almost forgot,” Amy ducked into the cupboard to grab her purse, pulling out a stamped envelope of pale pink stationery. “Carol said she’d send this out with her last paystub...”

“Here,” Marina held out her hand. “I need to put the Kronos in her box anyway.”

“Thanks, Mare. Coffee?”

“Oh girl,” the Latina gave her hips a shake as she headed toward the nursing supervisor’s office at the end of the hall, “you know it. I’ll meet you down there.” She slid the stack of paperwork into the wire basket secured to the locked door then spun on her heel. If she noticed the masked man in the flowing lab coat and loose-fitting scrubs, she gave no sign; if she felt his eyes upon her as she passed the security camera mounted above the blood bank entrance, it didn’t stop her from blowing a kiss and dropping another saucy wink and shimmy for its lens. Adam smirked silently at the sparkling ring on her left hand as she once again tucked her heavy hair behind her ear, slipping the envelope with Emmaline’s name on it into his pocket.

_Dear Dr. Gabriel… many happy returns…_

Emmaline was sprawled across the pallet on the attic floor when he climbed the stairs, her hair a dark, neon pink-streaked curtain spilling over the pillows beneath her head. He leaned in the doorway a long moment, watching her fingers tease their way along the edge of an open leather-bound book, her palm caressing each page in slow, reverent fascination. Her eyes were shining in the moonlight; her robe had slipped down one shoulder, offering a tantalizing view of one pale, perfect breast. The cat was curled at her feet; one amber eye opened in sleepy curiosity, only to close again, the very picture of disinterest. Adam rolled his own eyes before taking a step into the room, then another. “Reading in the dark, I see.”

“Oh, Adam,” her voice was breathy, bewildered. “This is so much more than reading.”

He lowered himself to the mattress beside her, reaching over to close the cover just enough to see the title. “ ** _Watership Down_** is an excellent tale, my darling,” he nuzzled into her neck, nipping the spot that had opened the door to this new life they shared, “but surely you’ve read it before, can’t be that much of a revelation now.”

 _Adam,_ her giggle lilting in his head, _don’t tease._

He growled softly into her skin, one fingertip tracing a lazy circle around the quickly pebbling flesh of her exposed nipple. Lifting his head, he watched her eyes glaze and darken as she arched into his touch, slipped his tongue between her lips when they parted on a soundless sigh. He heard the rustle of pages as she flipped the volume closed, the quiet thud when it hit the floor as she wound an arm up around his neck to pull herself more fully into the kiss. “Do we have time for this?” she nudged the cradle of her hips against the ample swelling in his scrub pants.

Adam lay his forehead against hers with a groan. “Not really, no. I ought to get the new stuff bottled and sealed as quickly as possible, pack up that last cooler just to make certain it all fits.”

“And,” Emmaline plucked nervously at the sparse hair peeking out from the vee of his shirt, “you’re certain it’ll make it on the plane all right?”

Adam dropped a small nod. “Vintners travel with their yield all the time, Emmaline… sealed and declared and stored as cargo, no one gives it a second look.” He waited until the doubt in her eyes cleared before retrieving the envelope and holding it up for her to see.

She swallowed with a bit of effort. _I thought I smelled Glow when you opened the door._ “Is she…?”

He quirked his head. “She looked fine to me.”

Emmaline’s fingers hovered close to the stationary. “Did she see you? Say anything to you?”

Adam looked down his nose at her with no small share of exasperation. _Wouldn’t you know that by now?_

She pouted at him. _Don’t be an ass, I was just asking…_ Her words ceased abruptly as her head filled at once with the scents and sights and sounds of Adam’s evening activities. Her mouth curled in a smile at the sight of Vicente’s surprised and befuddled relief, her teeth worried girlishly at her bottom lip as the stolen snapshot she’d texted her friend came to light. She blanched at the glimpse of Marina’s new jewelry, and she squealed in delight at the woman’s silent gestures of affection through the security camera. _I knew it! I knew it!_

“Yes, yes, little miss know-it-all. Here,” his gaze held hers steadily as he dropped his delivery to the pillow beside her, “take your letter, I’ve work to do.” A quick kiss to her forehead and he was gone, returned to the supplies he’d purchased from a local homebrew company, bottling and corking the blood as if it were homemade wine.

Emmaline stared at the scrawling script for a long moment before lifting the envelope between one thumb and forefinger. She closed her eyes as Amy’s whispered voice

_… Jesus, I need caffeine… did I pick up that sweater from the dry cleaners? If Micah thinks I am eating chicken wings a third Friday night in a row, he’s got another thing coming… oh, shit, I’d better call in a refill for the pill before the weekend…_

fluttered quiet but persistent between her ears. Inhaling deeply, smiling sadly at the familiar aroma of jasmine and iris, vanilla and musk, she slid a fingernail beneath the seal, and tore it open.

Downstairs, hovered over the corker, Adam braced himself.

_“Emmaline –_

_I guess the best way to kick this thing off is to say… Congratulations!_ _I know I said you sounded weird on the phone, and you did, but I’m pretty sure it’s because you expected me to tear your head off once I found out you were gone. Underneath that, you just sounded… happy. Content. Excited._

_I’m happy for you, Em, I really am. I’ve known for a while now that Adam was becoming more and more important to you, and while I’ve said it before – that they guy you described didn’t really sound like the guy I pictured being right for you – I should tell you I always believed you were becoming just as important to him.”_

Inside her head, Amy’s voice, crisp and clear: “A music dude, Em, really? You’re not as smart as I thought you were, girl, he’s just stringing your cute little ass along…” Emmaline sniffed a small laugh. _Little liar,_ she thought as her eyes continued down the page.

_“I can’t honestly say I thought for sure you guys would end up together – I sure as fuck never pictured you hopping a plane to the Pacific Northwest on a moment’s notice – but if this is what you want, Emma, then I want it for you.”_

Emmaline smiled. “That I believe.”

_“I hope it didn’t cost you too much to wrap up your life in less than a week, and I hope you know that I’m here to help you with any loose ends you need tied up before you can sneak a trip back.”_

“You just want to nose through all my stuff,” Emmaline giggled.

_“And I know you’re perfectly capable of making that man take care of you, so you do it, you understand me? God knows, if he’s half what that picture you sent is, **he’s** more than capable.”_

Emmaline gasped as a vision swept unbidden behind her eyes: Amy, alone in the shower as Micah sulked on her sofa, fingers between her legs, Adam’s image in her mind, silently moaning his name behind her lips. “You rotten little bitch!” she blanched. “See if I send you any more pics.”

 _“So… now comes the hard part.”_ The paper jittered a bit as a fleeting tremor passed through Emmaline’s hand. _“Emmaline Rose… I’m really fucking pissed at you. I’m trying to forgive you, and I’m sure I will and get over all this eventually, but I know I won’t get anywhere close without saying this, no matter how shitty it may feel: I thought you were better. Better than this person who jumped ship on her entire life without so much as a word to the people who loved you and cared about you years before Adam came along. I want you to be happy, Em, you have to know that, and if you’d just told me that this is what you needed, I’d have gotten on board. Helped you pack your shit, helped you find storage, thrown you a blow-out to say ‘bon voyage’. Hell, I’d have endured the humiliation of coming to the door in my undies if you’d just stopped to say goodbye on your way to the airport…”_

The words on the page trebled, bled into one another as the flood of Amy’s history began to prickle its way into Emmaline’s bloodstream through her fingertips, racing up her arms, tensing the muscles of her neck before exploding inside her brain like lightning…

_“Cut it out, I’ll be there in a second,” she snipped, slapping at Micah’s fingers as they tugged at the back of her negligee, the phone against her ear repeating the robotic voice mail message she’d heard dozens of times already. “Goddammit, Emma, quit ducking my calls!”_

_The sharp, cloying scents of blood and vomit filling the sickly warm air, the sticky sensation of her saturated scrub top clinging to the skin of her stomach, the nagging prickle of her sweat-dampened hair against her forehead, the back of her neck. The ache of tension in her arms, her fingers locked together, refusing to untangle. The weary grumble of the on-call physician: “Time of death, zero three seventeen.” Her own dazed voice as she snapped off her gloves: “She was only twenty-two.”_

_The flip of magazine pages echoing through the empty hallways of the hospital, the floral scent of cardstock perfume samples drifting on the air as she offered photo after photo to her friend for inspection. “Oooh, Em, your boobs would look awesome in this one.” Emmaline’s indulgent giggle, “My boobs would hold the dress up just fine, but I’d need you to hold me up if I was going to stand in front of anything besides a mirror wearing that.”_

_The too-sweet flavor of cheap strawberry wine over the buttery scent of microwave popcorn, the rumble of Nemesis’ purr against her thigh as she stroked absently over his spine. “You can have Eddie, I’ll take Brad.” Emmaline’s hum of affirmation, “As long as they know we’re a package deal, girlfriend, ‘cause you’re stuck with me.”_

_The comforting smell of orchid and almond as she curled her arms around her friend’s shaking shoulders, buried her nose in her hair. “It wasn’t your fault, Em, his heart just gave out. And even if he didn’t have a DNR, you’re a student… there’s no way that doctor was going to listen to you.” Emmaline’s eyes, red-rimmed and wet as she offered a small, sniffly smile. “Thanks, Aim. I don’t know how I’d get through any of this without you…”_

A wretched sob tore from Emmaline’s throat as the letter fell from her slack fingertips, and she buried her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, Amy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” Nemesis lifted his head as she began to rock, one paw uncurling from beneath his chin and coming to rest on her knee. He was less than thrilled when she leaned over to scoop him into her lap, but he allowed himself to be held, his ears perking hopefully when Adam appeared once again in the doorway.

_Emmaline?_

Her head lifted slowly, her tears falling on the cat’s soft orange fur. “Adam,” she whispered hoarsely, “it hurts.”

“I know, love,” he nodded as he crossed the room slowly, sinking down beside her. Nemesis hopped gracefully from her grip as Adam gathered her in his arms, tossing a glance of grudging thanks over his shoulder before ambling down the attic stairs. He smoothed her hair over her shoulder, down her back, letting her cry softly into his chest, quietly humming the tune she’d sewn beneath his skin from the moment she’d first entered his orbit against her forehead.

When the wave of sorrow finally began to ebb, she turned her face up to his, meeting his eye as he gently thumbed the tears from her cheeks. “I envied you. Every time I watched you pick up a guitar, every time I saw you sit at the piano, every time you ran your fingers over a sheet of music or the pages of a book. I envied you.”

His expression was calm and even, his voice low. “I know.”

“I wanted to know… everything,” she continued, chagrined. “I wanted to know the histories, the stories, the lives that touched the things around us,” she trailed off weakly, shaking her head. “God, Adam, how can you stand it?”

The corners of his mouth twitched in a barely-there smile as he reached around to pull a small parcel from his back pocket, cream colored tissue paper folded in careful thirds. Emmaline’s clouded expression cleared a bit, a small shine of affection breaking through the midnight of her eyes. _For me?_ Her hair fell around her face in a tousled curtain as she bent her attention to the gift; Adam nudged it back over her shoulder as her fingertips carefully plucked the wrapping aside. She breathed in a gasp of reverent appreciation, one palm coming to rest on his thigh as he knelt beside her. “Oh, Adam…”

The gloves were soft, supple calfskin, a lovely shade of fern green. The cuffs that would end in a flirty ruffle just above her wrists were inlayed with delicate half-moons of silver filigree, the seams so finely stitched they were all but undetectable. She lifted one to her nose, closing her eyes as she inhaled the mellow, buttery perfume of the leather. _They’re exquisite._

Without a word, Adam lifted its twin from her lap, extending his hand in silent entreaty. She slipped her fingers into it, her teeth closing on her bottom lip as he turned it over, tracing a fingertip along the fine lines etched into her skin. He closed his grip around her wrist, lifting her palm and pressing his lips to the center. She scraped her fingernails gently through the scruff along his jaw, nuzzled the tip of her nose into the curls at his temple. With gentle grace, he slipped the glove over her fingers, pulling it into place before turning her hand over and dusting another gallantly sensual kiss to the skin exposed by the teardrop cutout just beyond her knuckles.

He took his time, repeated every action and gesture as he dressed her other hand; she was trembling visibly when he finally reached for the abandoned letter, placing it carefully but firmly in one shaking palm. Emmaline’s relief was palpable as she fingered the stationary with wary regard; Amy’s voice still buzzed between her ears, but only in little more than a whisper, as if the volume on a transmitter had been turned way, way down. She took a moment to trace her touch sadly over the script of the last line – _“I don’t know how to not love you to death, even when I’m pissed at you so please, Em, call. Text. And come back soon.”_ – her lip trembling as she watched the bubblegum ink darken and bleed beneath the drops that dotted the page. Her arms slipped easily around Adam’s neck as he leaned closer, dried the tracks of her tears from her cheeks with calm, comforting kisses.

_I love you so much._

One strong, sure hand made its way to the back of her head as he lay her down among the pillows, the other tugging gently but insistently at the sash of her robe. He flipped the lapels of fluttering silk aside, felt her leather clad fingers curl into his hair as he bent to press his face into the soft, cool landscape of her belly. She arched up into him with a breathy mewl of frustration. _Adam, I want to feel you._

His chuckle rumbled against her stomach. _You don’t need your hands to feel me, love._

Her legs circled his torso as he drew cold, curling patterns across her skin with his tongue, the muscles of her thighs tensing as his teeth nibbled along the lower ridge of her ribcage, the small swell of flesh beneath her navel. Her hands left his hair to claw at his scrub top, dragging it over his head and throwing it impatiently aside. He was pushing his own waistband down as he crawled up her body, and he groaned at the sensation of her sheathed hands grabbing eagerly at the curves of his ass as she lifted her hips. They came together with a shared hiss of desire, his open mouth hovering over hers, the tip of his tongue teasing just inside her lips.

 _Can you feel me, Emmaline?_ He slid forward, slow, easy, pressing every inch of his skin that touched her closer and closer.

Her hands still gripped him tightly, but as his words tickled their way sweetly through her brain, the rest of her body began to respond, wrapping around him like a satin sheet. The silky sinew of her legs, the supple curves of her belly and breasts, the strong, beckoning embrace of her arms, and finally, the melodic moan of her voice in his head. _I can feel you, Adam. Oh, God… I can feel you…_

He was strong and solid between her legs, the angles and contours of his hips holding her open as he filled her. His nipples were hard as his chest pressed her into the pallet beneath her back, his arms steady and certain as he pulled her tighter and tighter against him. He was scorching, surging electricity under cool, smooth skin, whispering memory to her through the pads of her protected fingers, singing it through every other surface they shared.

_The rush of salty spray kissing her cheeks as she stood beneath the moon on the deck of a great grand ship… the whip of the wind through her hair as the horse she sat astride raced across a mossy moor blanketed in dense, downy fog… the dizzying drop in the pit of her stomach as she stepped to the edge of the observation deck of the tower in Macau, gazing out at the dazzling lights of the Chinese night…_

Her emerald eyes opened, locked with the fiery blue of his, and she drew him deeper until all else faded away, until nothing was left but need and hunger, taste and touch. _Adam…_

He claimed her mouth with a throaty groan, one hand clutching her hair in his fist, the other snaking down to grab one leg behind her knee, pulling her more firmly into each and every thrust. Little by little, the tingling sparks that danced just beneath their flesh began to erupt into tiny molten bursts, rivers of warmth that flowed into one another until both of their bodies were awash in radiant heat. Adam closed his eyes, burying his face in her neck as he pumped into her harder, faster. _Emmaline… oh, fucking yes… Emmaline…_

“Adam,” her cries were musical, ringing in his mind then echoing in his ears. “Adam!” He could feel the sweet, fleeting sting of her fangs as she nipped at his shoulder, the brisk, silvery burn underlining the pleasure and giving it a new, richer texture. He rose up above her, yanking her head back, ran his tongue over the small smooth yet deadly dangerous ivory curves.

_Come for me, my lovely little vampire. Come for me now._

Emmaline threw herself into his embrace with abandon, shrieking triumphantly in the grips of her orgasm; Adam’s lips curled in a satisfied grin as his own fangs nicked her throat, stealing the smallest sip of her excited essence before spilling into her, collapsing at last into the lingering warmth that still glowed and simmered between them.

Her head was pillowed on his chest, her still-gloved hand playing affectionately in the patch of fine hair between his nipples. _What is that, Adam? I mean… how does that happen?_

Images spilled into his brain from hers: a roaring fire, mercury rising in a thermometer, sweat beading along his hairline, above his lip. _I don’t know, Emmaline. I honestly don’t know._

He could feel her brow furrowing against his skin, knew she found his replay remarkably unsatisfying. _Is it because I’m still… newborn… do you think?_

He combed his fingers through her hair, nuzzled absently against her forehead. _Possibly._

The cool breath of her sigh dusted over him in a fleeting caress. _Does that mean it’s going to go away?_

Adam’s hand slid up from where it lay draped over his stomach to catch her chin, lifting her face so he could gaze evenly into her eyes. “I don’t know, Emmaline. But I hope not. I really hope not.”

Emmaline smiled as she snuggled against him. “I love you, Adam.”

His kiss was feather light in the dark. _I love you, Emmaline. I fucking hate it, but I love you._

“I know, Adam. I know.”


End file.
